Fereldan Archives: Legend of the Warden
by ShadowVeyl
Summary: Sinister intentions, greed and betrayal were hallmarks to what changed the fate and the life of Fianna Cousland, youngest child to the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, forever. Torn from home and family by blade and fire, Fianna is recruited to defend her homeland from a monstrous foe who seeks to destroy the country. **Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN DRAGON AGE!**
1. Prologue

Title: The Fereldan Archives- The Legend of the Warden

Author: Shadowveyl (TaevaFae on DeviantArt)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All characters (except Fianna and Keeva), settings and most dialogue are property of BioWare and David Gaider. All rights reserved.

Warning: Story contains spoilers of the Human noble origin, overall game storyline as well as adult language, violence, suggestive and adult themes. Reader discretion is advised.

This prologue was written for those who have not played or don't follow Dragon Age, though I am assuming most who intend to read this have played Dragon Age at least once. This story will follow the general plot of Dragon Age: Origins with some changes made by moi for the heroine herself for a more personal storyline. I really wanted to do a story that took place after these events, but you wouldn't understand her without understanding the slight changes to the cannon that I've done in my mind. So I hope you will read this literature-perspective of the game and enjoy it. I do apologize if some of the chapters so far are messy or seem rushed, it is merely that at those times I was rushed to get them done or like with my first chapter I was getting back in the swing of things since I haven't written in so long.  
I would also really enjoy some feedback, if you can. Writing style, storyline ideas, etc. Critiques are accepted as well, but flames will be ignored.  
Without further adue, here is the prologue.

The Chantry teaches the people of Thedas the origins of the Blight derived from the first sins of man upon Heaven and the Maker. Tevinter mages with their great power had turned arrogant, and hence sought to expropriate the Maker's domain. Their insolence is what tainted the great halls of the Maker's palace black with their corruption, and as punishment the Maker cast them out, twisting them into monstrous forms befitting of their dark hearts and vile nature. They came back to Earth, writhing and twisting until all that was left were horrendous, monstrous beasts straight from the nightmares of any man, woman or child. Creatures that sought only death and destruction for this world without relent. The very first of the Darkspawn.  
With the first of the Blights, it was the Dwarven empires beneath the surface who took the heaviest of blows, falling quickly to the driving forces behind the Darkspawn. From the Dwarven highways known as the Deeproads, the Darkspawn came again and again until all the world suffered the immediate threat of annihilation.  
It was with the birth of the first Grey Wardens that offered a hope to all nations fighting against the Blight. An assortment of warriors from all walks of life, male and female, banding together to stem the tide of darkness... and prevail.  
Four centuries later, the Wardens keep their vigil against the Darkspawn through trial and triumph. The people of Thedas who once revered the Grey Wardens as heroes against the Blight, have ignored the warnings given to them by the order. Have they grown too comfortable in the peace following the last blight, or have they forgotten the purpose of the Grey Wardens altogether? The Warden numbers are dwindling now, and with the threat of another Blight upon the horizon they will need any help they can possibly attain. But will new Wardens make the difference or is it already too late?


	2. Chapter 1

Title: The Fereldan Archives- The Legend of the Warden

Author: Shadowveyl (TaevaFae on DeviantArt)

Summary: Sinister intentions, greed and betrayal were hallmarks to what changed the fate and the life of Fianna Cousland, youngest child to the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, forever. Torn from home and family by blade and fire, Fianna is recruited to defend her homeland from a monstrous foe who seeks to destroy the country. When the king is slain in battle, the responsibility to restore his divided nation and defend it against an impending doom rests firmly on her shoulders.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All characters (except Fianna and Keeva), settings and most dialogue are property of BioWare and David Gaider. All rights reserved.

Warning: Story contains spoilers of the Human noble origin, overall game storyline as well as adult language, violence, suggestive and adult themes. Reader discretion is advised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brilliant Fereldan sun rained down upon the training yard where a young woman stood. Despite what appeared to be light armor, her shoulders sagged as she leaned forward in her exhaustion, her chest heaving for breath. Her arms were limp at her sides, her left bolstering a shield of wood embroidered with steel. Her right with a long sword of glistening iron appointed to her hand. Before her stood a practice dummy, cut to shreds by her sword and very sorely missing it's head of which lay tattered on the ground in a mess of straw and cloth at her feet. Her moonlight-fair skin was flushed and glistening with a layer of sweat from the labors of her training, dark brown hair with a subtle sheen of copper by sunlight clung to her damp brow as beads of sweat trailed down the sides of her face.

Her armor was a composition of iron and leather. While the breastplate was formed of iron, the sides of her bodice were sewn together with strips of leather and fastened to the woven iron aspect of the bodice to achieve flexibility for the wearer in battle. Her bracers and greaves were also composed of thick, hardened leather. The shoulder-pieces, knee-plates and elbow-pieces were all composed of iron as well. Not to be outdone by the bodice, the skirt followed a similar design. Pleated iron clung to hardened leather flaps of which were not fully attached to the iron.

With the sound of the portal door to the training yard clashing against it's stone frame, she quickly stood erect with an exaggerated sigh as if to shrug off her exertion. A maid approached quickly, with the lithe grace that often equipped elven women. Her frame was daintily small and lean as was standard for women of her race, with an attractively curved jawline and large, chocolate-brown eyes. Her sand-colored blonde hair was tied back in a traditional maid's pony, emphasizing the unique, feminine shape to her face. On one arm, a cloth was draped and in the other hand a pitcher of water.  
"Here, my lady. Wipe the sweat from your brow and drink away your thirst. I have a message for you from his lordship, the Teyrn." The elven maid said hastily, her voice sounding as anxious as she looked.

The armor-clad young woman turned her head to one side, placing shield and sword securely to her back before plucking the cloth from the maid's arm, her brows furrowing with confusion to the elf's demeanor.  
"Keeva, how long have you worked here in this castle?" She asked the elven maid, pressing the cloth against her brow and cheeks to wipe away the sweat.

Keeva seemed to pause in whatever thoughts had stirred her distress as her eyes came as close to meeting her mistress's confident, exotic, torrential sea green-blue ones as she dared, her own brows furrowing in thought as she silently counted within the confines of her head.  
"About five years now, my lady." She answered finally, her voice gentle and even.

Finished drying herself, the young woman accepted the pitcher from Keeva, hesitating to raise it to her lips as she spoke with a half-smile playing upon her lips.  
"Then don't you think it is about time you address me as Fianna instead of keeping up formality when it is just the two of us?" Her tone was teasing and playful before she raised the pitcher to her lips, sipping the contents at first before realizing exactly how thirsty she truly was.

Keeva seemed to wait until Fianna was done hastily downing the pitcher's contents, water carelessly streaming from the corner's of her mouth down her neck and beyond. With a satisfied gasp, Fianna parted her mouth from the lip of the pitcher to hand it readily to a waiting Keeva.  
"I don't think it is appropriate for one of my station to address a noble bred lady such as yourself to anything less than formality dictates." Keeva said firmly, taking the dampened cloth from Fianna's outstretched hand gingerly, intentionally casting her gaze to the ground.

Fianna remained silent for a moment, unwilling to press the issue further and risk making the elf uncomfortable before it clicked in her mind. "You said my father had a message for me?"  
Keeva seemed startled with the sudden realization that the minor distraction had caused her to forget her original purpose for coming. "Yes!" She said hastily, her nervous disposition returning once more, "Your mother wished me to inform you that his lordship, Teyrn Cousland, would like to see you in the Main Hall. I was told it's quite urgent."

"Do you know for what reason?" Fianna inquired with genuine interest.

"I don't know, my lady," Keeva confessed, "but whispers around the castle suggest it has something to do with the guests."

Fianna's lips pursed as she pondered thoughtfully for a moment. Her mother and her guests had come by the yard to observe her training for a time, but they were a small few and surely not capable of riling up the servants to the extent of discomfort that Keeva displayed. The only other guest she could remember being in the castle at this time was...  
"Arl Howe." Fianna concluded.

Keeva nodded hesitantly, "Its most likely, my lady. We were told to prepare for a large gathering to come in the night. Even the kitchens have been quite busy."  
Fianna sighed, lifting a hand to cradle her head in the heel of her palm. "Which means the Arl's men are delayed." She groaned, unable to hide the frustration in her tone.

Keeva remained silent as Fianna seemed to register this new bit of information. The dark-haired warrior maiden strode for the door with the elven maid close at her heels, "I'll go see my father now, then." She announced and disappeared from the yard with a loud thud of the portal door.

"No, no. The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself." Teyrn Cousland said sympathetically, turning to face a well-dressed older gentleman standing at the foot of his fireplace steps. Teyrn Cousland stood atop those steps with arms folded behind his back like any proper nobleman. "I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!" He announced in his regal voice, arms at his sides as he strode forward down the shallow stairs to approach his grey-haired old friend.

The Arl's voice, nasally as it was, held the hint of a smile as he spoke in good humor, "True. Though we both had less grey in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not... monsters."  
The Teyrn laughed loudly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he returned the jest. "At least the smell will be the same."

Fianna closed the chamber door behind her, a light crash of the thick wood against stone announced her arrival to entire main chamber as her father and his guest turned their attention in her direction just in time to see her swiftly approach.

Her father was a handsome, well-groomed man by many standards. His grey, shoulder-length mane was well-kept and the beard that circled his mouth to include a stubble mustache bridged the large gap between nose and mouth, giving him a rugged appearance despite his noble status. His attire was a yellow and red elabroately-made tunic, complimented by red breeches ending in lightly tanned leather boots.

The Arl, on the other hand, kept true to the nobleman image. He was not an ugly man by any means, but he was much more plain than Fianna's father. A bent, beak-like nose towered over a wide, thin mouth with short, neatly-kept grey hair and a small patch of beard hiding in the crevice between mouth and chin. His own style of choice was a dark blue tunic with a purple-black vest that covered the chest and shoulders, accompanied by a cloth belt around his middle of a similar color. His breeches were dark grey like his hair, with verticle white lines tucked into a pair of black leather boots.

"I'm sorry pup; I didn't see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter?" Her father apologized, addressing his question to the man standing beside him as he stepped aside to allow his daughter room to stand.

She stopped abruptly before the two older gentleman just as Howe gave his appraisal, "I see she's become a lovely young woman." he said politely, "Pleased to see you again, my dear."  
Proper noble etiquette was something Fianna did not particularly enjoy partaking in, but as a nobleman's daughter she applied her lessons and cast a charming smile upon the Arl of Amaranthine. For her father's sake, if for nothing else.

"And you, Arl Howe. Is your family here?" She questioned in her sweetest and politest of tones.  
The Arl grinned and shook his head gently, "Oh no, I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. They do send their best wishes."

Fianna's smile widened, for despite the Arl's weasely character she was fond of his wife and children. A part of her felt a bit disappointed that they had not attended with the Arl.  
"My son Thomas asked after you." He interjected through her thoughts, seemingly trying to carry the conversation. "Perhaps I should bring him with me next time."  
Yes, she remembered Thomas well. He was a sweet young man, but he was much like his father in his manner. She could not deny him for this reason without insulting the Arl, that much was certain. However...  
"To what end? Thomas is a few years younger than I am."

The Arl was quite quick to answer, chuckling through his nose. "As you get older, those years make less difference. A lesson often hard won."

"I doubt she'll be receptive, Howe." Her father interjected, "My fierce girl has a mind of her own these days, Maker bless her heart."

Fianna sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for her father's intervention of the topic, but Arl Howe gave a transient laugh from deep within his chest, "No doubt because you've trained her as a warrior. How... unique."  
Fianna kept her face an expressionless mask as the Arl seemed to sneer the word "unique" like an insult. An insult that seemed to go overlooked from her father. She suppressed the slowly welling, fiery anger burning through her blood to strain her ears for the words her father had next to say.  
"At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason." He began expeditiously, "While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Fianna gaped at her father in surprise, taken aback at this request. It was a large responsibility to be left in charge of the castle, one usually given to her mother or to Fergus. To be given this task now under such hard times was a demonstration of her father's absolute trust in her. Still, to be among the army at Ostagar, put her skills to use and partake in the slaying of those who would destroy her home did sound appealing.

"Are you certain, father? Why can't I go into battle with you and Fergus?" She asked curiously.  
Her father smiled, "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war." He breathed a laugh as he spoke those words, his smile disappearing as he continued in a more serious modulation, "She'd kill me if I let you go. She is already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

Fianna sighed, mentally cursing to herself. She knew he was right as he usually was. Her mother's greatest pastime was worrying, and her father was entrusting the entire castle while he and Fergus were away solely to her. Something he had never done before and was a very great honor to be trusted so readily.

"Very well, father. I'll do what you think is best." She conceded.

"Now thats what I like to hear." Her father's smile returned, "Only a token of forces will be remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

It was Fianna's turn to smile, the saying was something father would always say to her and Fergus if they got into mischief while he was away from the castle. Their nanny would always be the first to tattle on their misdeeds if their mother didn't tell him first. Each time he would begin a scolding with "while the cat is away, the mice shall play."

"There is also someone you must meet." He said, interrupting her reminiscing as he turned about to face the guard stationed behind him, "Please, show Duncan in."  
The guard turned his head to give the Teyrn his attention, thumping his armored chest loudly with his fist in salute upon receiving the request, and briskly hurried off.

Moments later, they were joined by a dark-skinned man with shoulder-length, black hair graying at the temples, tied neatly back into a pony. Strands of hair escaped their taming, fallen upon his broad brow. His face was kind for one so heavily armed, covered in a scruffy yet well-kept beard. Beneath his armor appeared to be a red peasant's robe, covered by a steel breastplate of intricate design and impression. Around his waist was an assortment of belts, fastening a leather bag and a white robe layered over the red from waist to heel to canvas his pleated steal skirt. His appearance reminded her of what her brother once described as a Revaini, though she had never seen one for herself.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland." The man known as Duncan said politely, his voice a surprisingly deep and sensuous timbre.  
"Your lordship!" Arl Howe spoke with obvious surprise, "You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

"Duncan arrived just recently," Teyrn Cousland explained, " unannounced. Is there a problem?"  
Arl Howe scoffed, "Of course not! B-but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am... at a disadvantage."

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, thats true." Fianna's father mused, turning his gaze upon his daughter, "Pup, brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope."  
Fianna nodded quickly to answer, "They defeated the darkspawn long ago."

Casting her almond-shaped green eyes upon Duncan, she noticed his saddened reaction to her response.  
"Not permanently, I fear." Duncan replied, the corners of his mouth downcast into a subtle frown.  
Fianna's father was quick to add, "Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we'd had a chance to react. Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the South. I believe he has his eye on Ser Gilmore."  
"If I might be so bold," Duncan began politely, "I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate."

The Teyrn stepped in front of his daughter protectively, his brows furrowing as if to issue a silent challenge to the Grey Warden. He was quick to protest, in a tone that was firm and almost chastising for one about a head's length shorter than the Warden and completely unarmed by comparison. "Honor though that may be, this is my daughter we are talking about."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't join them?" Fianna inquired insistently. Fianna felt honored that the Grey Wardens wanted her among their ranks, and the idea was very appealing. It would allow her to put her skills to practice and she would be able to fight the threat alongside her father and brother as one of the fabled great warriors. However, it would also mean giving up family and home. To forgo any responsibilities her father honored her with as one of his heirs to the Teyrn.

Surprisingly, Howe seemed to agree with Fianna's question, pressing the matter further by reminding Teyrn Cousland the honor of having his child serve under the Wardens. Something she had not expected after having picked up on his insult from earlier, "You did just get done calling them a band of heroes, old friend."

But her father would not release her to the Warden so readily. He defended his position promptly, speaking in address to all. "I've not so many children that I would gladly see them all off to battle." He explained, hesitating before he added, "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription."  
"Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I have no intention of forcing the issue." Duncan relinquished.

With the matter settled, the Teyrn turned his back on the Warden to face his youngest.  
"Pup. Can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"  
Fianna's face was serene as she nodded, completely businesslike as she made her promise to her father, "Of course."

"In the meantime, find Fergus. And tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. "

"Where is Fergus?" She asked of her father.

"Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt." He mused sadly, "Spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson. Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

Fianna nodded, bowing as was customary for a noble-bred child, "I wish you well, Arl Howe." She said politely, in a gentled tone that she hoped displayed kindness.

The Arl's reaction surprised her as he seemed taken aback at her words, open-mouthed for several minutes before he finally managed to get his response out. "Well, thank you! But... " he trailed off for a moment as he removed his gaze from her's to examine something on the floor to his left, "... it is... unnecessary."

Fianna tilted her head to one side to openly demonstrate her confusion but mentally shrugged off the strange reaction, casting a final gaze in Duncan's direction who seemed to be carefully assessing her in turn, before making her way out of the main hall. As she reached the door, a voice addressed her that had attracted her attention, driving her a few steps away from the door as she stood before them.

"Greetings, my lady." The armored soldier who had summoned her began, "You are the Teyrn's daughter, are you not?" The man was not familiar, and the shield of which he bore was of Howe's insignia. Fianna felt uneasy as she caught his eyes roving up and down her armored form like a starving man sizing up his next meal.  
"I am. Who are you?" Fianna asked, her tone harsher than she had intended.

"A bodyguard to Arl Howe." He inclined quite readily, paying no mind to her rudeness, "I understand you will take charge of your father's castle once we march."

Fianna folded her arms across her chest. It was all she could do to defend herself from the discomfort she felt listening to this man whose voice felt like an unwanted caress. Something about him just seemed off. The way he spoke, his mannerisms and a sudden curiousity in the goings on of the castle just seemed far too suspicious.

"So I am told." she alleged imprudently, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she cast a sidelong glance toward the door.

As if made privy to her desire to flee, he quickly spoke his farewell in that bone-chilling voice of his, "Then I wish you luck. Good evening, my lady."

With that, Fianna quickly bolted for the door unnoticed by the nobles in the room, closing it swiftly behind her. She shook off the disquiet of her mind, shuddering visibly before speaking resolutely to herself, "Now... off to find Fergus."


	3. Chapter 2

Title: The Fereldan Archives- The Legend of the Warden

Author: Shadowveyl (TaevaFae on DeviantArt)

Summary: Sinister intentions, greed and betrayal were hallmarks to what changed the fate and the life of Fianna Cousland, youngest child to the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, forever. Torn from home and family by blade and fire, Fianna is recruited to defend her homeland from a monstrous foe who seeks to destroy the country. When the king is slain in battle, the responsibility to restore his divided nation and defend it against an impending doom rests firmly on her shoulders.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All characters (except Fianna and Keeva), settings and most dialogue are property of BioWare and David Gaider. All rights reserved.

Warning: Story contains spoilers of the Human noble origin, overall game storyline as well as adult language, violence, suggestive and adult themes. Reader discretion is advised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tapping of her boots' hardened leather soles echoed against the brick-laid walls. The floors of the same make were crumbling as grasses flourished between the gaps, giving way to vines as they climbed their way up the walls. Light from the autumn sun rained in through the roofless halls, the sounds of birds chirping in the trees as a warm breeze sifted through their branches. The castle was alive with the sound of bustling servants no doubt made aware to the delay of the Arl's men. Guards saluted as she passed, greeting with the usual "my lady" as was customary for their station.

Rounding a corner, she came face-to-face with one of the Cousland family's best and loyal knights... and a recruit for the Grey Wardens.  
"There you are." Ser Gilmore asserted, "Your mother told me the Teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."  
Fianna couldn't conceal the smile that played upon her lips at the very sight of him.

A shock of orange-red hair fell just past the length of his ears, small tufts falling over one eye. His brows were thin, almost invisible with their color as they hovered over kind, forest-green eyes. His strong jawline framed high, shallow cheekbones, a well-formed nose and full lips. His muscular form was well armored in the standard iron mail and leather uniform of Cousland castle soldiers.  
"Hello to you, too, Ser Gilmore." Fianna replied good-naturedly.

Ser Gilmore must have picked up on the note of affection in her greeting, laughing nervously as he glanced over his shoulder at the guard stationed within earshot. A hint of which Fianna picked up on quickly.  
"Pardon my abruptness, my lady. It's simply that I've been looking everywhere for you." Ser Gilmore explained politely, laughing more genuinely as he continued, "I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

Fianna sighed, cradling her head in her hand before letting it fall to her side, "Did the dog get into the larder again?"

His kind eyes crinkled with the broadness of his smile, shrugging his equally broad shoulders with his reply, "No matter how the maids try to keep him out, he always finds a way in. You know these Mabari hounds; he'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Fianna shook her head, "He knows better than to hurt anyone."

Ser Gilmore threw his hands up, shaking them as if to banish the idea, "I'm not willing to test that." He contended, "You're quite lucky to have your own Mabari warhound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Of course, that means he is easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself."

Ser Gilmore gave a short laugh, shaking his head with such a notion. A laugh that made Fianna's smile return before he continued, "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"  
"To the kitchen, then." Fianna imparted in such a way that earned another laugh from Ser Gilmore as he jerked a thumb behind him.

"Just follow the yelling. When Nan is unhappy, she makes sure everyone knows it."

The two walked in companionable silence, the sounds of leather and metal soles against stone being the only sounds to shatter the quiescence. Ser Gilmore's hand, occasionally brushing against her own with it's rhythmic swaying back and forth, made her wish desperately that she could grab it to hold as they walked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fianna saw a display of assorted dazzling colors drawing her curiousity. Turning her gaze fully in that direction, it was the corridor leading to the upper levels of the castle of which her mother and the other guests stood upon the landing between ramps, speaking elatedly with laughter amongst one another.

As if sensing her scrutiny, her mother peered up from the eye contact she made with one of the women and smiled with a nod of acknowledgement just as Fianna lost sight of her in her continuing march down the hall to the kitchen.

Suddenly, Ser Gilmore snatched Fianna's hand from at her side and pulled her along briskly. A behavior that caused Fianna to jump, but such a reaction was short-lived as she was soon forced into walking at a hurried pace. Any onlooker would not see anything unusual, as often Ser Gilmore was sent to fetch the Teyrn's daughter, and impatience was not beyond Ser Gilmore albeit hard to achieve.

Ser Gilmore thrust open a door to an empty room, earning a cry of protest from it's hinges just as he pulled Fianna inside along with him before releasing her hand long enough to close and bolt the door swiftly behind them. Fianna whirled about on the balls of her feet to face Ser Gilmore in his odd behavior, yet she did not have but two seconds to ask what it was he was doing before the glint in his eye caused her mouth to close.

Staring firmly into her eyes as he began chastising, "You mustn't speak so boldly, my love. Especially before I've had the chance to ask your father for your hand. I'd rather not have word reaching his ears of our relationship so soon."  
Fianna groaned, sighing exaggeratedly before she began chastising him in turn, "Its been three days, Roderick. Father leaves tomorrow. How long do you intend to wait?"  
Ser Gilmore laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "Actually, I'll be asking him tonight. I'm just... a little worried how he'll react. A knight's duty is to protect nobility, not fall in love with their daughter."

Fianna couldn't help but smile as she strode forward, placing a hand beneath Ser Gilmore's chin to peer reassuringly into his eyes, "Father admires you, and I'm sure once asked, he'd be happy to have you for a son-in-law. My father is a very understanding man."  
Ser Gilmore smiled genuinely, reaching up to take her hand in his own. "I'll be happy once I can call you my wife." With those words, he kissed her briefly upon the lips before continuing in jest, "I think your dog has driven Nan mad enough with our dalliance. Let's be on our way."

The trip was shorter than Fianna had expected, or perhaps it seemed that way as she walked the entire way hand-in-hand with Ser Gilmore only to part hands upon entering the kitchen.  
"Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!" Nan ordered vehemently, a hand slicing through the air as if to demonstrate her authority.  
The two elves she was commanding cowered near the door, hesitant to obey the command, "But mistress," protested a dainty brunette, "it won't let us near!"  
Nan gritted her teeth and hissed with narrowed eyes, "If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin both of you useless elves. I swear it!"

"Uh...calm down, good woman." Ser Gilmore said soothingly, "We've come to help."  
Nan turned on her heels abruptly, a maneuver that seemed too quick for her age as she jabbed a finger in their direction accusingly, "You and you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder. That beast should be put down!"  
"I'm sorry he's bothering you, Nan." Fianna said softly, hoping to calm her old nanny.  
She had learned long ago that meeting Nan's anger with anger only brought on more anger, not a proper solution to a problem.

Nan was a wrinkled, surly-looking woman with worn eyes wrought with both smile and worry lines. Her mouth was set into a permanent frown, even if her wrinkles indicated the number of times she smiled in her lifetime. Her hair was gray and pulled taught into a bun. Her clothing was a carelessly sewn leather bodice over a white tunic, a belt fastened to her waist keeping a plaid skirt in place.

"Just get him gone. I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers." Nan said firmly, the tension in her voice diminishing.  
She turned once more on her heels, slower this time as she faced the two elves who had been standing there the entire time in silence, "You two, stop standing there like idiots. Get out of the way!" she shouted authoritively, swiping her hand through the air once more as if wishing to shove them herself.  
The two elves moved quickly away from the door, returning to their previous duties of preparing food with efficiency. Fianna took that opportunity to hurry forward and open the door to the larder, only to find her Mabari hound pacing with his nose to the floor and growling between intervals.  
"Look at that mess." Ser Gilmore groaned, "How did he even get in here?"

Upon seeing his mistress, Fianna's Mabari hurried to her feet and began barking excitedly. Becoming much more noisy than he usually was.  
Fianna's dark, thin brows knitted together in thought, "Are you trying to tell me something, boy?" She observed.  
In response, he barked repeatedly as he spun about in a frenzy.  
"He does seem like he is trying to tell you something." Ser Gilmore ascertained before a clatter and a squeak erupted from a corner of the larder. Ser Gilmore's instinct to reach for his blade kicked in as he instantly took an offensive stance, "Wait... Did you hear that?"

Fianna reached for her own blade and shield in turn, just as large, gray rats clamored from holes hidden behind bags of wheat, barley and barrels of ale. Each was larger in mass than the size of her head and equal in length to her torso, from head to tail.

They hesitated at first, assessing the intruders with beady black eyes. Whether out of territorial instinct or hunger, the creatures rushed for them on small, agile feet with teeth bared. One hurried for Fianna's leg, and Fianna ended it's life with a quick slash of her sword just below the skull well before it had come within biting range. Two more hurried to replace the rat that had failed, and they too were ended with a quick stroke each to sever their spines.

Blood flowed just as the rats did, until they finally stopped coming and a number close to twenty lay dead and slashed upon the larder floor.  
"Giant rats?" Ser Gilmore questioned in amusement as he replaced his blade, "Its like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Aengus must have chased them in through their holes."  
Ser Gilmore stared at the Mabari admiringly as he strode over to Fianna's side, "Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder afterall." he concluded, Aengus barking happily in confirmation to this verdict.  
"It certainly looks that way." Fianna said with a smile, bending to give Aengus an approving pat on his broad neck.

"Those were rats from the Korcari wilds," Ser Gilmore explained, "best not to tell Nan. She's upset enough as it is. But seeing as you've got your Mabari well in hand, I'll be on my way."  
He stepped forward quickly, bridging the gap between them to place a hand gently against her cheek before leaning in to whisper, "I'll see you tonight before my shift."  
As he pulled away, he tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and turned for the door to disappear beyond it.

As Fianna strolled from the larder with her proud Mabari in tow, Nan made herself busy with preparations while in waiting. Upon seeing them she approached quickly, glaring without reserve at the beast responsible for her frustrations, "There he is, as brazen as he pleases licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt."  
Fianna breathed a laugh as she patted Aengus's side, "Oh, come now. He's not so bad, Nan. Just a dog being a dog."  
"Look at him now. Snuck into my larder one again and makes off like a free thief, he does." Nan said bitterly, her eyes lighting with a familiar glint that reminded Fianna of all the times Nan used to chastise her as a child.

"Oh, mistress!" Shouted the brunette elven woman in alarm from the doorway to the larder, startling Fianna and Nan, "There are rats in the larder! Big ones!"

The blonde elven servant behind her moved past his co-worker, squatting beside one of the dead rats to observe teeth marks on the carcass, "Huh. Looks like the dog kill them."

Nan clucked her tongue and sighed, "I bet that dog led those rats into there to begin with."  
Aengus pouted upon hearing those words, his expressive brown eyes pleading as he tilted his massive head with a very puppy-like whine.

Nan looked down at the dog pityingly despite the firm tone to her words, "Don't even start with the sad eyes. I'm immune to your so-called charms."  
Aengus responded with a tilt of his head in the opposite direction, another pitiful whine accompanying beseeching eyes.

Nan sighed with defeat, giving in to her maternal side as she quickly grabbed scraps of meat from the nearest cutting table to place on the floor. "Here then," she said as she placed them at his paws, her voice resuming that canonical tone, "take these pork bits, and don't say that Nan never gives you anything."

She stood erect again, rubbing her temples with one hand as she muttered, "Bloody dog."  
With an exaggerated sigh, her hand flopped to her side before she directed her attention to Fianna, "Thank you, my lady. Now we can get to work."  
Making her voice louder, she directed herself toward the two kitchen servants who were dallying in the larder, "Thats right, you two. Quit standing about!" An order to which they both heeded quickly.

Now that the matter with the kitchen and her hound, Aengus, was settled, Fianna set off to find her brother as was her intended purpose. The corridor for the upper levels of the castle were not far from the kitchen, and it was not long before she rounded the corner with dog following close behind, to find her mother and company still standing where she had last seen them.

Upon approach, she heard fragments of the discussion that had the group so enamored. Her mother was showing off trinkets the family had collected over time, now presenting an Orlesian item with a rather humorous story behind it.

"And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king." Her mother giggled softly with the tale, turning her attention with Fianna's approach, "Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?"  
"Yes, mother." Fianna responded politely, "Nan is back to work as we speak."

The Teyrna smiled, "You've always had a way with her." As if suddenly remembering the woman standing beside her, she gestured to her before speaking, "Darling, you remember lady Landra. Ban Loren's wife."

Yes, Fianna did remember the woman. Despite her taste for alcohol, and unusual behavior when she had obtained too much, she was a rather sweet woman. Her appearance was slightly more haggard compared to her mother, with unkept gray hair, tired eyes and a green and brown colored gown that appeared more homely than her mother's bright purple and pink gown of intricate weave. Of course, this was most likely due to the difference in status being that lady Landra was the wife of minor lord.

"I think we met at your mother's spring salon." lady Landra said thoughtfully with a welcoming smile.  
"Of course," Fianna said politely, putting years of noble interraction to practice, "it is good to see you again, my lady."  
"You're too kind, dear girl." lady Landra laughed in good humor, her voice nasally much like the Arl's, "Didn't I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?"  
"And made a very poor case for it, I might add." The young man beside her chimed in, a note of embarassment in his velvet voice.

The lad beside her was a clean-shaven young man with well-kept, light brown hair combed neatly back away from his strong, masculine features and kind, dark eyes.  
"You remember my son, Dairren. He's not married yet, either." She said with a hinting smile as her own dark eyes paced back and forth between Fianna and her son.  
"Don't listen to her." Dairren groaned, "It's good to see you again, mi'lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever."

Fianna felt her cheeks flush, chiding herself mentally as being called beautiful was something she should have been used to by now. Still, Dairren was a sweet man and had Roderick not already claimed her heart, she would have considered a pairing between the two of them for her mother, at the very least.

"Thank you." Fianna replied gently.

"And this is my lady in waiting," lady Landra continued, "Iona."

With the hesitation of the elven woman, lady Landra pressed, "Do say something, dear."

The elven woman smiled quickly and spoke with an attractively husky voice, "It is a great pleasure, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother describes."  
"And she says that after seeing you whacking stuffed men in the courtyard sweating like a mule." Teyrna Eleanor criticized.

"Your daughter's prowess with a blade is most impressive." Dairren said admiringly, obviously attempting to ease the Teyrna's mind of her daughter's combat expertise.  
'"I was quite the battle maiden myself in my day. But I think it was the softer arts that helped me land a husband." Fianna's mother insisted leeringly.

Fianna scoffed, replying bitterly, "I can handle my own affairs, thank you."  
"All evidence to the contrary." The Teyrna declared softly, inspiring a well of anger within Fianna.  
How she wished she could shout at her mother that she was in love and had a man who wanted her hand, as if a man were what gave her a sense of self worth as society dictated was the norm. Fianna knew her mother just wanted more grandchildren and for the Cousland line to be cemented with future generations, but such things took time. Something Fianna's mother was less inclined to give.

As if sensing the tension, lady Landra breathed another laugh before speaking hastily, "I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear. Dairren, I shall see you and Iona at supper."  
Dairren and Iona nodded to lady Landra, "Perhaps we will retire to the study, for now." Dairren offered before leading Iona away down the corridor and around the corner toward the library.  
Lady Landra turned to the Teyrna and smiled calmly, "Good evening, your ladyship."

Fianna's mother took this opportunity to approach Fianna, speaking gentler than before, "You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance."  
"I will," Fianna promised, "but mother, did you know there was a Grey Warden here?"  
Fianna spoke like an excited child, a tone her mother did not take well.

"Yes, your father mentioned that." She began, "You haven't gotten it into your head that you want to be recruited?"

"No, mother." Fianna professed, "I have too many responsibilities here as it is."

Fianna had considered the opportunity, though her responsibilities with home with family came first. Besides, the Warden had expressed interest in Roderick and she would not dream of taking that from him.  
"Keep it that way. I'd rather you be busy here than off chasing darkspawn." Fianna's mother said firmly, her sovereign tone a familiar one.

"I should go find Fergus." Fianna said finally, eager to find her brother and be away from this conversation. But her mother surprised her suddenly with her next words.  
"I love you, my darling girl. You know that, don't you?" the Teyrna divulged, placing a warm and gentle hand on her daughter's cheek.

Her mother was a lovely woman, even for her age. Fair skin much like Fianna's, with hallowed cheeks from age and full lips atop a strong chin. Fianna had been told many times that she had her mother's eyes, and staring into them now Fianna believed it.

She stared in surprise and awe back at her mother, standing in silence for several moments before finally finding her words, "I love you, too." she replied automatically, "But I'm hardly a girl any longer."  
"Indeed." Eleanor acknowledged, "I turned around and here you are. A fine woman in your own right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Go do what you must, then. I will see you soon."

It was only another short stride to find her brother's room, having to walk straight most of the way and only turn once coming upon her brother's door. Aengus led the way this time with a hurried pace, one Fianna had to nearly sprint to contend with.

"Is there really going to be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?" Fianna's young nephew asked eagerly of his kneeling father as Fianna turned into the room.  
"That's 'sword,' Oren." Fergus, Fianna's brother, corrected his son, "And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

His wife, Oriana, stood looming over her husband and son as they spoke, writhing her hands nervously as her eyes glistened with her worry.  
"I wish victory was indeed so certain. My heart is... disquiet." Oriana confessed gently, sounding near tears.

"Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth." Fergus said cheerfully as he stood, turning to acknowledge Fianna as she strode toward the middle of the room where her brother and his family lurked. "And here is my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well."  
Feeling as if she were interrupting something important, Fianna turned a concerned gaze upon her brother and asked, "Shall I wait outside?"

Fergus earnestly shook his head, saying quickly, "Stay. I'd like to say farewell."  
Fianna nodded, reaching forward to wrap her arms around the familiar, broad form of her older brother. Memories raced through her mind of childhood mischief and laughter as she sent a silent prayer to the Maker for his safe return, "You'll be missed, brother." Fianna said sadly, fighting back the tears.  
If it were this hard to say goodbye to her brother, she dare not think how hard it would be to say goodbye to her father knowing full well he may never come back.

"If it's any consolation," Her brother said with a smile upon their parting, "I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain and completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe."  
Fianna couldn't help but laugh lightheartedly at her brother's jest. He had always been the one to defuse every situation with humor, much like father did.

"I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband." Oriana said in a tone that sounded both scolding and humorous. Perhaps it was her attempt to join in on Fergus's jokes.  
Fianna felt the delay could not go on longer, and so sighed before announcing, "I bring a message: Father wants you to leave without him."  
Fergus turned to his sister with trepidation, "Then the arl's men are delayed. You'd think his men were all walking backwards." He said frustratedly with a sigh, "Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go, then. I'll see you soon, my love."  
Fergus mussed his son's hair before leaning in to kiss the cheek of his wife.

Just then, their father and mother walked in together holding hands.  
"I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave?" The Teyrn said gently, a glint of humor in his voice.  
They made their way amongst those gathered, their mother wrapping her arms around Fergus in a manner that mirrored Fianna's actions earlier as their mother grieved, "Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

Fergus laughed as he held his mother at arm's length once she released him, "I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me."  
Fianna glanced at her father standing beside her, grumbling, "You could have delivered your message yourself, father."

She had gone through all that trouble under the impression that her father was going to be far too busy with the Arl to deliver the message himself and now here he was only moments after she had delivered the message for him. Still, her father smiled in good humor in his response, "And miss having both my children in one place before I leave? Not likely."

Fianna snorted in response, as Oriana's next words drew her attention.  
"The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands and fathers and bring them safely back to us." She prayed in her gentle, silken voice, her eyes scanning back and forth to all gathered.  
"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it." Fergus declared with a smile, suddenly realizing his error as he muttered, "Err... for the men, of course."

"Fergus!" Oriana shrieked in protest, "You would say this in front of your mother?"  
Before any adult could add on to the already growing disaster, Oren chimed in with his curiousity, "What's a wench? Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"  
"A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren." Fianna's father explained, muttering his next line much like Fergus, "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Fianna's mother protested, "Maker's breath, It's like living with a pair of small boys. Thankfully I have a daughter."  
Fergus and their father chuckled as Fergus reached forward to squeeze their mother's hand, "I'll miss you, mother dear." Turning his attention to Fianna, he turned businesslike as his humorous expression suddenly turned serious, "You'll take care of her, sister, won't you?"  
Fianna smiled as she replied with her own humor to Fergus's sudden dour question.  
"Mother can handle herself. Always has."

With that, Fergus's laugh returned as he returned Fianna's jest with one of his own, on their mother's behalf. "It's true. They should be sending her, not me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the Deeproads."

The Teyrna breathed a humorless laugh as she frowned, "Well, I'm glad you find this so funny."  
Their father, the Teyrn, chuckled heartily as he calmed the bunch of them, "Enough, enough." Turning his attention on Fianna, his intonation took on an abrupt imperial command. "Pup, you'll want to get an early night. You've much to do tomorrow."  
With his order, parental or not, Fianna nodded and turned to leave just as Fergus pulled her in for one last embrace as he whispered good-naturedly in her ear, "Getting sent to bed early, are we?"  
Pulling away from him, she lightly punched his shoulder with a laugh, "Have fun on the long march. In the cold." She teased.

Fergus only laughed merrily as he relinquished, "A warm bed doesn't sound so bad now, come to think of it." His humorous eyes softened to ones of warm, brotherly affection as even his tone reflected this, "At any rate, I'll miss you. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back. If things go well tonight, we'll have planning to do."

Fianna smiled, knowing full well what he was referring to. There was no doubt in her mind that Roderick or Ser Gilmore, as he was known, had been talking his nerves out with her brother.  
Bowing, she said in as gentle and warm a tone as she could possibly muster, "Of course. Take care of yourself, brother."  
And turned to walk out the door.


End file.
